Attack On Titan
by Crystallion12
Summary: At the age of thirteen, a boy was kidnapped, and never seen again. Years later, word gets out, spreading among the never-ending war ravaged armies of the Sulcoran and Talnuran nations. Set to kill and wipe all soldiers from existence, the Titans scream, as the end draws near for the war, and both sides to it. It's a bloody evolution. [Rated M, Don't own Toothless on the Cover Art.]
1. Chapter I- Raid Under The Silver Star

**Attack On Titan**

A How To Train Your Dragon Fanfiction.

 **THE END IS HERE, AS THE TITANS SCREAM. IT'S A BLOODY EVOLUTION.**

 **Xx-xXxXx-xXx- xXxXx-xX**

 **CONTENT WARNING:**

 _Strong Aspects of **Violence** , **Blood and Gore** , Death, **Torture** , Language, and Other Mild Adult Themes are Present throughout whole story. Those in bold are those that are present in the following chapter below. _

**VIEWER DISCRIMINATION ADVISED. Rated M for content above.**

 **Chapter I:**

 **Raid Under The Silver Star**

A flock of Léthyru sung in the quiet of night, their cries soft and gentle, forming the eeriest of melodies. 

Their lithe, long dragon-like bodies, ranging from sea green to fiery orange, fish scales to soft fur, glimmered faintly in the light of the Silver Star, high in the dark skies. Their beady pink, yellow or black eyes gazed upon the little town below.

Spreading its swallow-shaped wings, glittering with translucent, silver and gold studded membrane and feathers on the end, shone prettily, and it took flight.

Whispers of the dead murmured in the wind, ran under the Léthyru's wings and kept it aloft. The leaves adorning the many trees of the forest blew in the gentle breeze, and waves rippled on the ocean surface. It flew overhead the small town of Getriiaran quietly and smoothly. Lights glowed from within the houses, and soft chatter could be heard from within the Town Hall, resting neatly upon the hill to the north. Speeding up the pace, the creature, relatively the size of a small leopard, glided over the sea of resident's homes.

It landed with talons outstretched on a roof. Leaning slightly forward, it flapped its wings quickly, and then folded them against its sides. Tilting its head with a chirp, it blinked, and walked forward, sidestepping across the roof top. The Léthyru pecked at the wood with needle sharp teeth, located in its beak-like snout, void of any scales unlike its forehead and cheeks, covered in small, sharp scales.

Squawking, it fluttered its wings and hopped to the next house.

Its head raised and figure stiff, it listened to the faint growls of its flock of two dozen as they shifted in discomfort.

They listened.

 _Thud._

Hisses rose from their dark, lightly tinted throats, and people stirred in their homes, slumbers disturbed by light tremors and scary noises.

 _Thud. Thud._

Watching animals and critters scurry away, flying as fast as their legs or wings would carry them, only fuelled their dread.

 _THUD._

Stomachs dropped, and in sync, all of the island's individuals, from each person to every bug, cowered and shrank in their skin.

...The dragons were here, and they were more furious than ever.

 **Xx-xXxXx-xXx- xXxXx-xX**

The lone man chuckled, watching the bloody, normally sickening chaos below. At its side, a massive, black beast stood.

It was utter, complete, and beautifully executed carnage.

In one house, a mother screamed, as talons brutally ripped the door off its hinges in one fell strike. A long, bright green neck snaked inside, the darker shade of its spines creeping into the scales, creating tiger-like stripes on its huge body. Its yellow eyes glowed as hot, liquid and napalm-like fire shot from its mouth, setting the house alight and licking the walls into ashes.

Streaking forward, its jaws clamped around a man, standing in front of his wife and their three-month old daughter.

The man in black armour watched, his eyes seeing through the building and singling out life forms, as the dragon tore the bulky man's head clean off the body, blood pouring from the neck.

The figure collapsed, the pinkish-orange light of his life form fading as the huge beast munched and crunched on the skull, the brain exposing and sliding down, trying to be swallowed. Somewhat disgusted, and wishing to mock the horrified woman, he spat out the remains of her beloveds head. There were tufts of hair here and there, an eyeball rolling off the tongue, and so on.

Snorting, the black beast on the roof turned its attention to elsewhere. The man's gaze followed.

They eventually locked onto the town plaza, where three bird-like, exotically coloured dragons were located.

They shot sparky, quick shots of fire in every direction, burning houses and people, running around, screaming, panicking. One woman had her entire chest and stomach melted away, exposing her bloody insides as guts slid out her collapsing figure, arm splayed out on the side.

In a way, that was both ironic and somewhat amusing to the dark duo, those victims were fortunate. While burning to death wasn't exactly fun, the fire of that particular species of dragon was re-known as one of the hottest flames out there, making it relatively quick. So, that deemed them lucky in this world and era.

Laughter came from the two, watching as death played before their eyes, horrible, lethal, torturous, slaughtering that led to Hel.

It was rightly so; the villagers had always gotten on the man's nerves, every time his father had dragged him along to a meeting, usually about how they could 'find and destroy' the dragon's nest. It had always been such a high, mighty task and goal in his bullied childhood and upbringing, but they knew better. There were more, so _many_ more nests out there, and this was only one of those. In fact, it had to be one of the _nicer_ , and _smaller_ ones.

They were lucky, and fortunate, that they were only plagued by dragons, and not the massive, never-ending war of a thousand years that raged on to the present day. Apparently some of the outer islands were getting patrols of soldiers from the Talnuran army, since they were smaller and more desperate in the current time.

It was horrible, and a laughable war, was the current era. The Talnurans wanted to win, _just_ to win, and the Sulcoras were fighting for fun.

Well, it was actually their leaders that wanted that, but it still counted- after all, a leader made its followers. He turned back to the massacre below; it was almost over, and he didn't need to say who was the victor today.

They promptly laughed, watching as some bored, two-headed dragon picked up dead, mangled villagers in their mouths, dumping them on the charred ground. They piled them, one after the other, drenching the pile in blood and guts. Pink melded with red, and black flesh, as one dragon decided to stick a (somehow) undamaged spear into the ground, and dragged a baby over it, skewering the screaming infant.

Soon, all of the huge, winged, fire-breathing lizards were in on it, until finally, it was done.

A massive, fiery red dragon stepped in front, the crowd of its kind parting way for the beast. The man's eyes lingered on the dragon. It had to be the Raid Leader. Raising its long, gruesome neck to the dark, smoking skies above, it savagely released a loud roar. The others followed, as they spread their massive wings, taking to the skies to return to their horrific nest and home, back to their waiting Queen, expecting a report of a successful and gore-filled raid.

The man turned to the beast beside him. The creature was, in fact, one of those who had just destroyed and murdered the citizens of Getriiaran, a massive, lethal dragon. However, it wasn't like the others.

No, it was much more intelligent, dangerous, and by far, bloodthirsty.

He could practically feel waves of rage coming from its mind, as he swung onto its scaly black back between the shoulder blades.

Grunting, he nudged its side with his foot, holding onto its neck as it took flight.

Its black scales, blending with the night sky perfectly, shimmered and gleamed with spots of blood, and the rider snorted. That was pretty impressive- it must have been the result of the large dragon that killed a pregnant lady mid-flight, near the roof they had been watching from.

Whatever happened next, he figured, would happen.

Fate had its ways, its purpose, and it even had likes and dislikes. For him, it was almost never good. Lately, life had been calm, but as soon as they returned home...

There was no doubt, though, it wouldn't be pretty, pleasant, or nice, in any form.

 **Xx-xXxXx-xXx- xXxXx-xX**

Gliding down, the dark dragon landed behind the Markets, hidden from the view of society. The man slid off its back, now much more visible in the broad daylight of noon. Thankfully, no one ever questioned a passing dragon in the city, so the massive partner of the strange person was never really questioned. Some had tried to find out what species it was, but never got any where. They were smarter than that.

The man stood at a tall height of six foot one (6'1), and held lean, powerful muscle all over his body. This was covered by his dark clothing that matched his dragon to blend into the night sky.

He wore thin black clothing, and over that, cold, complex, shiny black armour, that was all hidden by a dark cloak that kept his identity completely secret. A hood was over his head, also casting a shadow over his whole face.

As he patted the dragon's thick, scaly, muscular neck, he snorted to himself. One person had once tried to reveal him, and he hadn't fought back when the hood was pulled down. Everyone had been expectantly staring, shocked and in disbelief someone would even try. However, that boy, only eleven years old and a troublemaker, had been extremely embarrassed to find it did nothing, as he wore a mask over his face regardless. All they learned was that his short, spiky when ruffled, hair was a brown-tinted auburn.

"I'll see you later, Bud." He murmured, his voice low and dark, gender unrecognisable by a voice-changing device implanted in the mask, but hiding affection for the beast. Nodding, it growled, nuzzled his arm, and ran off, stealthily heading off to the Underground Chambers they lived in, and despised with all they had in their cold hearts and minds.

Sighing deeply, he turned on his heel, ducking under a blue-green shade-sail to enter the bustling market-place.

He inwardly groaned at the huge amount of people gathered; it was Friday, and the first one of the month; of course it was crazy. Avalon, the city he had lived in for over 9 years now, was absolutely huge, and filled with people.

It had been even more filled when they had arrived, but... Well, _complications_ had arisen, and unexplained deaths and assassinations were getting increasingly frequent by the month.

The population was now an eighth short of what it used to be, which was a shocking 4 million.

As he walked through the street, making his way through the crowds and pushing some aside to get there, he ignored the countless stares passed his way. Whispers and murmurs passed through the citizens of Avalon, more so for the newcomers, guests, or visiting allies. He couldn't care less- it happened every time, and for good reason.

They knew nothing of him, his past, his appearance (other than his dark cloak and his hair) his relations, where he lived, what he did, or even what his name was.

A couple of years back, they had dubbed him the 'Arcanus' which was the Latin word for mysterious.

It was rather fitting of a title, to be honest. He'd never admit it, but he sort of liked it more than his actual name... Mostly because it had always been hurtful- now, though, it was rather torturous, and not just plain embarrassing...

He reached the hidden alley, walked down, flung back his hood, and unlocked the door, before pushing it open and stepping inside, cold dread filling his veins.

...As he was about to be reminded, and brutally, at that. He was late. Go figure.

 **Xx-xXxXx-xXx- xXxXx-xX**

He walked in, eyes narrowed dangerously behind the black mask. They glowed with a dim, green light, the pupils in narrow, inhumane slits.

A man stood in the centre of the cold, stone-walled and floored room.

Behind him, the shiny, metal door slammed shut, all on its own accord. He bit his lip, almost nervously, but by now, he was used to this sort of thing.

All because of the horrible man before him. His red eyes, his taunting, sweet smile, the sharp chin and jaw-line of his face, the dark hair and clothing, the silver dagger at his hip that had shed so much of his blood, and the light scar over his eye from the one time he had managed to fight back.

He had been punished severely for that, and it sent shivers down his spine, every damned time...

"About time you got home, Hiccup." The man growled, his eyes dark and emotionless, as always.

He circled him like a predator, and the masked figure, otherwise known as Hiccup or Arcanus, remained silent and still.

The man, his worst fear, his torturer, took the blade in his hands, running a finger down along its edge, sharpened to rival that of a Razorwhip's spines.

As he grinned slyly, Hiccup gulped, his heart skipping a beat. He stood back a little.

He frowned, tutting in disappointment. "Oh, dear. Has your time away caused you to forget the last 9 years? That I am your master? That you are mine, and mine only?"

"N... No... Of... Of course not... Ma... Master..."

"Good." He barked, sheathed the dagger, and strode forward, launching a foot to Hiccup's stomach before he could even think. Even with his armour, it wasn't any less painful, especially considering the fact his torturer's boot was made out of the same substance. It was like diamonds- only another diamond can damage it.

Yowling in pain, the wind knocked out of his lungs, he stumbled backwards, and braced himself for another well-placed foot to the abdomen, and then another, and about a dozen more.

He laid on the floor, coughing and shaking. The taste of blood lingered on his tongue.

That was going to bruise, _badly_ , and the tall man, chuckling whole-heartedly, knew it. Clapping, the man turned, opening the door.

He called back to Hiccup, still gasping for air and splayed across the cold, unforgiving ground.

"Get up, you pathetic demon." He hissed, before switching back to a taunting, sweet, mocking tone.

"Oh! And don't forget you're due in Testing Room 3 tonight at eight, Hiccup! I expect you to be there early, so don't come late... You'll regret it, won't you, Useless?"

Hiccup groaned, nodding slightly as he started to get up. "Y... Yes... Master..."

"Aww, that's the spirit! Good work, my boy. Now, I shall be off to get some groceries, so you stay put and behave... Ta-tah!" He laughed, slamming the door close as he headed down the hallway, the resonating echo the followed, hurting his ears.

Sadly, that wasn't going to even cut half-close to what would happen that night.

 **Xx-xXxXx-xXx- xXxXx-xX**

 **A/N:**

 **Not much to say, as of now. BUT, I've been waiting to do this for a good while now, and LightningAndDeathItself218 has practically been dying to see this, so yeah, finished this chappy up for you Dragonites.**

 **It's rather short, in comparison to what I intend to dish out for this story. So, expect more words and content in upcoming chapters... And some angst power, maxified.**

 **What? I didn't rate it M for fun.**

 **PS- Yes, for those who are probably wondering, the title is the same from the popular anime... Which I know nothing of. I just like a English Cover of one of the theme songs, the concept and what I know of the anime, and ya know, THAT NAME? It's fitting for the story... I dunno any more. Make what you want of it. XD**

 **DRAGONITES UNITE! RTTE MADE ME CRY!**

 **-Crystallion12.**


	2. Chapter 2- The Blood on the Silver Blade

**Attack On Titan**

A How To Train Your Dragon Fanfiction.

 **THE END IS HERE, AS THE TITANS SCREAM. IT'S A BLOODY EVOLUTION.**

 **Xx-xXxXx-xXx- xXxXx-xX**

 **CONTENT WARNING:**

 _Strong Aspects of **Violence** , **Blood and Gore** , Death, **Torture** , **Language (minor)** , and **Other Mild** Adult Themes/ **References** are Present throughout whole story. Those in bold are those that are present in the following chapter below. _

**VIEWER DISCRIMINATION ADVISED. Rated M for content above.**

 **Chapter II:**

 **The Blood on a Silver Blade**

His head snapped up as the resonating bang of the door slamming open reached his aching ears. He quickly averted his terrified gaze, looking down, heart-rate quickening at the eerie and off silence of his torturer. His fists clenched slightly, shaking only with a hint of shuddering fear. His breathing became rapid, questioning every moment for when his master would make the first out of many moves...

Instead, he eyed the man, held up by stained, black-silver chains around his wrists, pinned against the bloodied wall. The cruel man snorted, and turned sharply, the door closing on its own.

"I hear that a 'Dragon Rider' has been assisting with the dragon raids... Is this true, Hiccup?"

Hiccup was left silent for a long period of time, twisted in his mind and tongue tied, lost for words. The man's fear began to mingle with confusion, wondering when he had ever revealed himself and his dragon. They usually just watched the raids from afar, never aiding or fighting either side... Just watching. And no one ever survived those devastating and lethal raids, so who could have ever had a _chance_ , minimum as it was,at seeing and reporting them?

Suddenly, that trance was broken, as was his jaw, as a cold and very familiar fist collided with it.

He muffled a scream, turning it quickly into a yelp of agony. Blood quickly seeped and poured into his mouth, coating his tongue with the unpleasant and sickening taste, complete with the sticky and clinging texture of his life substance, what kept him alive and pumped through his veins. That thought, the thought of your life supply being drained and taken away, just by one man in one moment, was enough to make him shudder, all on its own.

While Hiccup's mind was racing, his head throbbing, and heart pounding, the man responsible for his latest injury was completely calm, hands clasped around his back with bony fingers laced.

"Is this true?" The man asked again, amusement and annoyance tinting his tone, just enough for Hiccup to pick up on, and become immediately scared at the slow approach of fury. This was never a good sign, _never_.

When Hiccup bit the inside of his (other) cheek, struggling to find words, and eventually gave up on answering, since he didn't really know for certain, the man cursed quietly and strode over to a table lined with more knives than a mere, mortal, relatively unknown and insignificant man should ever possess. After deciding to use the one that always hurt the most, had traumatised his subject for years upon years, he ignored the table and drew the knife on his belt from its holster. Calm, he turned to his killing machine, his slave, his property, once more.

He repeated the question again, and when he still got no response, he rested the long, silver blade's razor sharp edge on his bare chest, right on his already scarred sternum. "We can either do this, nice and easy, or, the hard way... But it's up to you, in the next sixty seconds, to decide which you are forced to experience."

"What would it change..." Hiccup muttered through clenched teeth, thoroughly disgusted by the blood in his mouth that made his speaking funny. Go figure.

He eyed him in amusement, laughing a short bark. "You already know the answer to that, lad."

 _That I do..._ Hiccup thought bitterly to himself. Right now, he wasn't totally sure of what to think and believe- or what to feel.

He would often dwell and maul over this every time he was tortured. In a way, it helped take his mind off it a bit, made it hurt less, almost. His emotions were raging; there was anger and helpless frustration, humiliation- that a mighty rider like him was taken down so easily- overwhelming self-pity, sheer terror, and the trembling sense of just _knowing_ what was to come in the following hours. He felt helpless, scared, powerless, hateful, and just generally _useless_.

Hiccup dared to look up- and regretted it. The knife ended up cutting across his nose, just avoiding fracturing the bone. Pain surged through his face, stabbing his mind with agony as blood seeped from the deep cut. He could barely swallow down his weak cry.

"Oh, _whoops_... My bad!" The man cackled, waving the bloody dagger in front of him. "You didn't like that... Did you?"

 **Xx-xXxXx-xXx- xXxXx-xX**

"Don't try and deny it, young lady." Her mother scolded, standing at the sink as she washed a plate. Her stubborn, headstrong, and incredibly beautiful and talented, twenty-one year old daughter, Astrid Hofferson, was sat at the dinner table, writing her papers for homework. The young woman groaned, wondering when her mother would ever stop. She didn't want to be married and live that girly, dumb life. It just wasn't her thing.

Eventually, about a good three quarters of an hour later, only once her mother had finished her little persuasive speech, she was allowed to go up to her room. She slept on the second floor, so she had to climb the stairs before reaching the door.

Walking inside, she sighed heavily, closing the door. She was even tempted to lock it, but her father never liked that, especially he came home late.

Currently, the man was out on a search for the Dragon's Nest. As usual, risking his life for revenge.

Personally (and she would never admit it for her own social standing, reputation, and safety) she saw nothing in fighting the vicious, scaly creatures. All it did was make things worse, cause unnecessary conflicts, and rage wars into action, as it had done for three centuries now. Sure, she had no reason to back up her motives, and she would attack a dragon if it tried to hurt or kill her and her family, but she just didn't understand why fatality was the solitary option.

Thoughtful as she collapsed onto her bed, she took out her diary, opening it up.

Although she hated 'girly' things, owning a personal record of what had transpired in her life just seemed like a good idea to Astrid.

 _Dear Diary,_ she wrote, taking a deep breath as the pen danced across the page.

 _Everything's just so miserable... I hate this. I hate my life. My parents- or, at least my mother- are just so DEMANDING. I. HATE. IT._

 _I just wish I could find someone... Someone to understand. Respect my skills... Respect them, not for what they were, but for using them, on the right reason. And something just tells me that using my axe on a dragon, is the wrong way to go._

 **Xx-xXxXx-xXx- xXxXx-xX**

The Dragon Rider never got to respond. The blade slashed across his nose again, right above the last cut, and before long, his face was bleeding In multiple places.

Whimpering, Hiccup's head shied away at the display of his oppressor, holding the gory knife in hand, dripping with the crimson fluid of his body.

Most of the cuts and slashes now covering his facial features weren't that deep and would only faintly scar, but one over his eye would undoubtedly be there forever.

It was in those few moments, that everything about _him_ came over his conscious.

He could remember the man securing his head, knowing the reaction would be 'splendid' and 'entertaining as a Eagletalon's flight', so he made certain it was as atrocious as humanely doable.

It was in that moment, he remembered a certain member of his past...

 _Snotlout Jorgenson was that 'kid' at school; the bad boy that never did his homework or listened. The short but stocky kid walked through the streets of Berk, the little town at the centre of the Barbaric Archipelago._

 _Just as he turned his heel to turn, he looked up at the sound of a familiar cry for mercy._

 _A snarl rose in his throat. Someone was hurting, or at least doing something bad to his baby cousin! Dumping his school bag on the concrete ground, not caring less for it, he ran towards the sound, down a dark alley where the buildings were uninhabited, abandoned. The street itself was particularly down-run and musty. And both Hiccup and Snotlout walked down this street to get home- and, the school bullies- which was the perfect opportunity for bullying._

 _Skidding around the corner of the alley, he accidentally knocked over a trash can as he approached._

 _It was just as he had dreadfully anticipated. Hiccup, his eight-year old cousin, was pressed against the wall, his head just underneath a detailed drawing of graffiti and stained with tears._

 _The four boys towered over Hiccup, smirking and grinning, sneering, laughing, teasing, as they kicked and punched, throwing the much younger boy around like a useless, pathetic and worn-down ragdoll._

" _HEY! GET OFF HIM!"_

As the blade ran over his jaw-line, Hiccup's eyes opened slightly. Snotlout...? His cousin? Why now?

He unfortunately looked at his master, who was smirking evilly, just like the bullies.

Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut once more- reality was worse than memories right now.

 _Snotlout's fist struck the first bully, HARD, across the jaw, sending the teen flying with a distinctive crack. Hiccup looked up at his saviour as the brawl started._

 _The 11 year-old Jorgenson knew what it would bring- suspension from school, a possible scolding._

 _But that didn't matter now, and he was sure that Stoick- Hiccup's overprotective father, and also the Chief of the village- would understand, along with Snotlout's own father, who was more than aware of the harsh criticism and bullying his nephew received. Snotlout's mother, Caroline, would undoubtedly understand, as well, but she practically had a psychological motherly death-grip over him and would lock him up in her worry and protectiveness._

 _All in all, the rather buff (for his young age) kid made sure that his message was delivered- NO ONE hurt HIS baby cousin, and they NEVER got away with it, either._

Tears sprang to Hiccup's eyes, but not so much because of the knife that sliced down his forehead, but the fact he had forgotten the one he had cared for back in awful, dreadful school, back on Berk.

A time long passed, he realised just how much he had come to miss the Jorgenson boy, who, no matter what, had never left or hurt him.

" _Are you okay...? What did they do? Do we need a doctor?" Snotlout crouched down by Hiccup, horribly worried. He was sweating and huffing from the fist-fight, but he had prevailed; as was obvious with the now unconscious gang of boys on the ground. The boy shook his head, taking his older cousin's arm and hobbling to the exit. He was bruised, with a sprained ankle- that much was obvious._

 _Snotlout snagged Hiccup's bag from where it had been thrown aside, and grabbed his own as they came out._

"Who are you, Hiccup?" His master asked, tearing him out of the flashback which had been his sanctuary for a short while. Short, but an emotional and beautiful moment he may never experience again...

" _I'm so useless... I can't do anything... Wh... Why me..." Hiccup cried into the chest of his cousin and best friend, the boy's thick, slightly muscular arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. He listened with sobs and fresh tears, more so of happiness, as Snotlout told him all the wonderful and amazing things about his baby cousin, that no one else ever saw. He told him he was special, he meant the world to him..._

Hiccup didn't give an answer.

His master snarled, slapping his bloody cheek and grabbing his chin harshly, forcing eye contact. "You are nothing."

 _That he'd never let Hiccup be hurt again..._

The knife slashed over his eye, straight from hair line to the jaw, agony shooting through his whole body, as screams tore from his parched throat.

 _That Hiccup was the strongest of them all..._

The man glared at him, disappointed and sighing heavily as he sheathed his weapon. "You're so fucking _PATHETIC_. I've never met such a _weak_ and _useless_ thing in my entire life that rivals you, slave. I look forward to tonight, to hear your screams grace my ears once more."

 _That he'd never leave him alone._

Hiccup could only mourn, cry and grieve, barely acknowledging the fact that his master left the room, abandoning the broken Rider in darkness.

 **Xx-xXxXx-xXx- xXxXx-xX**

He was a dragon.

Dragons were huge, powerful, menacing, heartless and violent creatures capable of no humane emotion- and yet, Toothless was.

Toothless wasn't like the others. He didn't raid villages with the rest of the nest, like they all did.

In fact, he wasn't even born in a nest.

Well, if you could call it 'being born', because, well, most dragons hatched from eggs.

Not him.

He was often reminded of his dark and tragic story. It went down simply and horribly; All kinds of genetics taken from other dragon species, mutilated and combined to create him, that formula being repeated over and over until sweet success. After years, upon _years_ of horrific gene splicing and cruel experiments, his master had been gifted with a prize unlike any other- the Night Fury. And shortly after came his rider, Hiccup.

The Night Fury, the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, as he would boast, pretty much all the time. It was practically a branding on his midnight black scales.

The ebony dragon was capable of wreaking discord and chaos unlike any other; he was able to destroy and annihilate in the most pessimal ways imaginable; but yet, underneath the cold and scale covered hide of darkness that shielded him away in the dark of night, and his huge, shadowy wings, he had a aching but burning heart, and feelings for everything around him, his rider in particular. Most feelings were negative, in all respect, but not _every_ single one.

Hiccup- as the boy had eventually revealed- was his soul-mate for life. And they didn't have a choice.

The Night Fury could remember every experiment, the knives and tubes stealing his blood and his life, inserting power into him, and changing him physically and mentally, upgrading him, but in the most agonising and nasty methods a man could create. He could perfectly recapture every time he was thrown into that horrible, demonic cage that was tainted with his red, crimson blood, the images flashing in his mind without permission. Blood, just like his rider's. Just like that of a human. So what was so different?

Everything. But what kept their hugely diverse races apart was just how stubborn they were, how they couldn't consider peace, a pact, a way to end this terrible three-way war.

He was now standing in his cage- a large, and rather spacious, stone-floored cage with unbreakable black bars and roof. Dried blood stained the bars and the floor, even the ceiling. That had all come from him, now the hundreds of scars littering his lithe, muscular and daunting (yet rather small for a dragon of his power) figure.

Toothless had never known what the world _could_ be like. Just what it _was_.

To him, the world was a cold, wrong, violent place of nightmares that had to be changed- No, _revolutionised_. That was his headstrong logic, his motives, his way, his reason.

And humans, the human race, was a _disgrace_ of life.

Slaughtering innocent creatures, murdering those of their blood and their own race, their once loved ones.

Dragons, he could understand, what with evil, maniacal and insane dragon queens ruling over them and mind-raping them. Even with that, they were simple, lowly beasts that didn't care for anything other than themselves and taking others' lives for pure enjoyment.

Some could argue that this made dragon-kind worse; but humans just took that to the next level.

And he would make sure his rider knew this too...

His rider would never join their evil ways, their deathly, tragic, call of a siren's intent. No insolent fool, no woman would ever take him away for petty, ignorant and useless _love_.

Hiccup had plenty of that, all kept within his dragon heart that would never betray the man.

Yes.

Hiccup would be _his_ , and his _forever_...

He'd make sure of it, no matter the cost. Even if that meant destroying the human race entirely...?

Challenge accepted.

 **Xx-xXxXx-xXx- xXxXx-xX**

 **harrypanther-** Thanks! I hope this satisfied. ;)

 **TheShardsOfDarkness2138-** Yes, he was. Thanks for the review, and here's that chapter! :p

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 **A/N:**

 **My sincerest apologies for how late this was- thanks for reading!**

 **DRAGONITES UNITE!**

 **-Crystallion12.**


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